


every star and every galaxy

by stayingputwouldbeablunder



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, McCall Pack, Past Abuse, Scars, Sharing Clothes, Slice of Life, Slow Build, mostly canon compliant through 3A
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 04:04:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stayingputwouldbeablunder/pseuds/stayingputwouldbeablunder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is halfway through the myth about the origin of banshees when Lydia feels a raised strip of skin on the back of Isaac’s scalp. He doesn’t move from her lap, eyes closed and breaths deep. Lydia parts Isaac’s curls with her fingers and finds a dark line, a <em>scar</em>.</p><p>‘<em>Don’t stop,</em>’ he says and Stiles looks up from his book, confused. Lydia apologizes, removing her hand completely. Isaac shifts in her lap, pressing back against her stomach. ‘<em>Please, don’t stop,</em>’ he repeats. She places her fingers back in his hair gently and he settles again. She avoids the spot where the scar resides, carding her fingers in the opposite direction.</p><p>Or five times Lydia and Isaac saw each other's scars on accident and one time they saw them on purpose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	every star and every galaxy

**Author's Note:**

> As some of you may or may not know, I am currently in the middle of my super long fic _now we spin laps around the sun_. For the pace and structure of that story, I am writing each chapter from a different POV. I just finished Isaac’s and Lydia’s is next, but I have written very little prose from her POV. Basically, this is a practice in getting comfortable with her character and settling into Isaac a little bit more.
> 
> I’ve never written one of these 5 +1 fics either but slow build and slice of life are my two favorite things to write. So, here we go into my first foray with a Lydia and Isaac centric fic.
> 
> Oh, and for the sake of this story, let's assume that unlike canon, the scars someone has before they become a werewolf don't disappear after they turn. Okay? Okay.
> 
> Unbeta’d, my gosh.

[1]

It is three days before freshman year starts and Lydia already feels underwhelmed with how insipid Beacon Hills High School is. The building itself isn’t much to brag about: it’s larger than the high school a few towns over in Hill Valley, has an outdoor breezeway and field perfect for lacrosse around back. The walls are dated though, paint faded, classrooms still equipped with chalkboards. Considering every kid from Beacon Hills and the county south attend it, one would think the school board could cough up enough money to make the learning institute they are expecting their youth to thrive in a little more up to date.

Lydia has her schedule in her hand, paper folded meticulously in fourths, corners sharp. Jackson has a hand around her waist, chatting with Danny as they walk the halls. The school does this every year: opens a week before classes to allow students to become oriented with the building, the place they will spend a majority of the next four years of their lives. 

Lydia already detests it.

Jackson and Danny are chatting with a man named Finstock - he _insists_ they call him Coach - about lacrosse tryouts in the winter which leaves Lydia free to roam. Most of the students here are with their parents, some with friends. She recognizes a few of them: the Sheriff and his son, a few girls she’s spent afternoons sunbathing around pools with, a boy whose name she thinks starts with V. The Sheriff’s son starts to raise his hand to wave but she walks past him. 

They’re not friends; they don’t run in the same circles. Lydia is popular, has been since elementary school. So is Jackson. He may coattail on his father’s reputation now and then, but he has potential. Potential, self-assurance, a drivers permit and sleek silver Porsche sitting in the parking lot.

She’s somewhere in the history wing, two floors up from the ground and on the other side of the school from the locker room when she runs into _him_. He has curly brown hair, wide blue eyes, and a quiet demeanor. Lydia thinks he’s gotten taller over the summer. At his side is an older man, his father she surmises, who keeps pushing at his glasses. The boy doesn’t acknowledge her presence down to the row of lockers; his father is chastising him with harsh quips, low enough to feign conversation.

Lydia tucks her schedule into the small purse resting against her hip, pulling a lock from the interior pocket, and busies herself with turning the dial to the correct combination. There is a bang down the corridor as she clicks the heavy lock into place and when she looks up to see what happened, the boy, the one who hadn’t noticed her before, is pressed against the lockers as his father jabs a finger in his face. _He_ does notice Lydia and turns on his heel before calling for his son to follow.

Isaac, she hears him called, flinches when he see her. His father walks by in a huff and Isaac follows. They don’t make eye contact but the boy flushes red. He lifts his sleeve as he passes her in long stilted strides.

Lydia almost asks if he is alright but Jackson calls her from the other direction. She takes one more look at the boy: he’s scratching at a rosy patch of skin on his arm.

On the first day of freshman year, Isaac approaches her in the hallway. She thinks it might be so she won’t say anything about what she saw; he asks her out instead and Lydia laughs. She tells him to try again when the bike he comes to school on has an engine, not a chain. He palls in front of her and she shoos him away to join Jackson as he waits for her by the stairs.

A week later, she catches Isaac sitting by himself at a small table in the cafeteria. He is scratching at the same patch of skin but it’s no longer red and scabbed. Now there is a scar, brown and _fresh_ against his pale skin. He pulls the sleeve of his jacket down as a group of jocks walk by. Their eyes meet across the room and Lydia looks away to ask Danny about their algebra homework. 

_Burns_ , her brain supplies. _Burns_.

\- - -

[2]

After the bite, being able to walk through a room full of people and _not_ notice their idiosyncrasies becomes a fallacy. Isaac wonders then how with all their enhanced senses they still haven’t determined who or what the creature murdering people around Beacon Hills might be. Derek thinks it has to be Jackson or Lydia because neither of them turned after receiving the bite from an alpha. _Something’s not right_ he had said, flipping through page after page of books that reeked of fire.

Between turning Erica and Boyd, Derek has a lot on his hands and Isaac’s situation with the police only adds to it. The alpha hardly lets him out of sight unless he is with the other betas in fear he’ll get caught. It should be comforting but Isaac thinks it’s only because he is still learning how to control his instincts and one bad conversation could cause him to shift. Erica makes fun of him for it only to hop on his back and demand he carry her around the warehouse as Boyd chases them.

The day after the fight in the ice rink, Derek sends Boyd and Erica to school, telling them to watch Lydia and Jackson closely. Isaac is dozing in one of the subway car’s seats when his phone buzzes. Derek asks him who it is and Isaac rubs his eyes before scrolling through his text messages. ‘ _Erica says Lydia’s wearing gloves and that her hands smell like blood and antiseptic._ ’

Derek nods before returning to the book he’s reading. Isaac texts her a reply and snorts when she sends him a picture of her English notes, the words _I will never use this shit_ scrawled across edge of the paper. A couple hours later Derek calls Erica to tell her the plan, that she and Boyd are to go to the lacrosse game and not make a scene. Isaac asks what his job will be and Derek tells him to tail Lydia without getting caught. He nods and Derek drives them to the school in the dark, parking the Camaro at the far end of the parking lot, away from the lacrosse stands. He reminds Isaac to be careful before he disappears into the school. There’s cheering from the field and a tiny part of Isaac wishes he could be out there.

Isaac finds Lydia sitting in her car, crying audibly with one window down. It’s easy to hide amongst the trees - she’s too distraught to recognize glowing eyes. He only hides himself behind the thick trunk of an oak when he sees Stiles approach her. He sends a quick message to Derek as he eavesdrops on their conversation. Stiles seems likes he’s trying too hard and Isaac bites his lip to keep from laughing when he says something to offend Lydia.

When he dashes off, Lydia sighs and presses her face against the steering wheel of her car. Somewhere off in the stands the crowd roars. Isaac turns away from her to focus his hearing, chuckling when he hears Scott tell Boyd his eyes are glowing. When he turns back to Lydia, she’s checking her makeup in the sun visor’s mirror.

Isaac watches her for another five minutes until she closes her visor, no evidence of crying left. She glances around before pulling her gloves off, right first, then left. There’s bloody gauze covering her left knuckles and Isaac’s eyes flicker amber when he catches the scent of her blood. She winces as she pulls the bandaging off, leaning behind the passenger seat and returning with a bottle of hand sanitizer. He doesn’t know how she’s injured herself, nor particularly cares why, but one thing remains certain: she’s _not_ healing.

Isaac pulls his phone out to text Erica when she starts her car, headlights flooding the woods with light. He presses his back against the tree, listening for any change in her heartbeat. The gears shift and the silver car drives off.

Isaac returns to the Camaro, an uncomfortable itch in his throat, and waits for Derek to reply. Boyd finds him half an hour later, saying Erica is with their alpha and if they need anything, they will text him. Isaac nods and they set off into the woods, ignoring every warning Derek has given them about hunters.

\- - -

[3]

Once the leader of the Alpha pack leaves and someone kills the Darach, life settles enough the pack tries to resume normality. Allison, Scott, and Stiles all start to deal with the darkness around their hearts, each in their own way. Allison begins a tentative relationship with Isaac while Scott focuses on learning to be an alpha. Lydia notices Stiles begins to spend more time in her company.

Ethan and Aiden don’t leave. Danny seems happy with that but then no one has told him about werewolves yet. Aiden sucks up to Lydia, treats her like a princess, gives her space when she asks. It lasts three weeks and in that time he never apologizes for every wrong he cast against her and her friends, never apologizes for _killing_ Boyd.

She ends it when Aiden spits some snide comment at Scott, castigating him for his lack of leadership skills that any decent alpha should have. Scott bites back that the twins will _never_ be pack. They killed Boyd and don’t deserve redemption. They don’t deserve the right to be pack by association. Ethan doesn’t deserve Danny and Aiden _sure as hell_ doesn’t deserve Lydia.

The two alphas are standing in the middle of a busy hallway, staring each other down as other students pass by. Aiden bares his teeth and Lydia makes her choice. She takes her place next to Scott and tells Aiden he should go. The teen stares at her before his lip curls up further and he chuffs. Scott reaches for her hand, squeezing it as the other alpha stomps down the hall. Lydia returns it before saying she needs to find Stiles.

He’s at his locker, quiet and in one of his hazes that comes before the _darkness_ takes over his thoughts. He smiles at her and waves, immediately dropping his hand when he notices her eyes are rimmed red. She walks straight into his arms, tucking her face into his neck, and grips his flannel shirt in her hands.

‘ _Lydia, what’s wrong?_ ’ he asks, arms wrapping around her waist. She pulls away to wipe at her face, thankful she wore waterproof mascara. She tells him she broke up with Aiden and that Scott is going to make _them_ leave. Stiles nods and pulls her into a tight hug.

They stand like that for a few minutes until the bell rings to indicate the next period is starting. Several students walk by, including Allison and Isaac, joined at the hand. Allison stops to ask if Lydia is alright and Stiles answers for her. Lydia notices the way Isaac watches her, looking over his shoulder as he and Allison make their way to the foreign language hall.

Stiles drops his hands from her waist, taking her hands in his before smiling. Lydia starts to pull away, saying ‘ _I’m, Stiles, please don’t. I’m not, I’m never going to feel that way about you. I’m sorry, I just, I can’t._ ’ Stiles’ expression falters and his face goes hard for a moment. Lydia watches him smile sadly. ‘ _I don’t feel that way anymore,_ ’ he tells her. ‘ _I haven’t for a while. Not since you watched me have a panic attack and kissed me in the locker room._ ’

Lydia flushes red and Stiles’ grin returns. ‘ _I say we skip the rest of the day and you and I split a carton of ice cream,_ ’ he suggests, dropping one of her hands. ‘ _Yeah?_ ’ Lydia nods, pressing her free palm to her cheek. Stiles closes his locker and they walk to the Jeep in silence.

A month and a half later, Lydia is curled up on the Stilinski’s couch, wearing one of Stiles’ jackets because she got cold. Stiles is sprawled across his occasional chair, legs dangling over one armrest and a large book in his lap. Although he’s been sworn to secrecy about emissary training with Deaton, he _is_ allowed to share the books the veterinarian lets him borrow. Today’s is a century old text on banshees, their history, and myths.

Someone knocks at the door and Stiles tilts his head back over the other armrest before closing the book and dropping it on the coffee table. Lydia moves her legs from where she had them pulled beneath her on the couch and watches Stiles’ back. She hears him greet someone before walking back into the family room. Isaac is behind him, sleeves of his shirt balled in his fists. Stiles sits back down in his chair, mouthing _Allison_.

Isaac sinks onto the cushion next to Lydia. She asks if he wants to talk about it and he shrugs. He leans forward, elbows on his knees and face in his hands, and mumbles ‘ _Allison broke up with me._ ’ Lydia looks to Stiles and neither says a word. She knows they have been treading lightly around each other for weeks now. Isaac sighs loudly and starts divulging their problems.

He has felt guilty about their relationship since the night Jennifer tried to kill Lydia and Allison has since the night she became a pseudo sacrifice for her father. They agreed in the beginning they would stay together as long as they were happy and kept their friends out of their relationship. Isaac says when he told Scott about dating Allison, the alpha’s scent went acrid and he played it off with a pat on the back. Allison said Scott’s tell was present when he told her not to break Isaac’s heart.

When Lydia asks where Allison is, Isaac shrugs and says probably with Scott. Stiles frowns and she knows he is conflicted with calling him. They are best friends and have grown impossibly closer since the Darach. Their entire group has.

In the past few months, the pack has become close-knit, living in each other’s pockets and spending all their free time together. In part it’s because every wayward supernatural being on the Pacific coast has come waltzing into Beacon Hills under the influence of the Nemeton. Some, like Kira, come with charming personalities and an eagerness to simply be around other shapeshifters. Others, like a group of trolls last month, come to draw power from the old tree and harm those who wish to protect it.

So when Isaac asks Lydia if it’s alright, if he can lie down in her lap, she nods. Isaac lays on his side, resting his head on the arm rest. Lydia pets his hair and he relaxes. Stiles raises his eyebrows and asks if Isaac wants to hear a story about banshees. The beta nods.

Stiles is halfway through the myth about the origin of banshees when Lydia feels a raised strip of skin on the back of Isaac’s scalp. He doesn’t move from her lap, eyes closed and breaths deep. Lydia parts Isaac’s curls with her fingers and finds a dark line, a _scar_.

‘ _Don’t stop,_ ’ he says and Stiles looks up from his book, confused. Lydia apologizes, removing her hand completely. Isaac shifts in her lap, pressing back against her stomach. ‘ _Please, don’t stop,_ ’ he repeats. She places her fingers back in his hair gently and he settles again. She avoids the spot where the scar resides, carding her fingers in the opposite direction

Half an hour later the door to the garage opens and Sheriff Stilinski walks in with a smile on his face. Stiles looks over the back of the chair, asking if his date with Miss McCall went well. The Sheriff just chuckles, saying fixing a porch light hardly qualifies as a date. He moves around the kitchen for a minute before stepping into the family room to ask Stiles what’s for dinner.

Lydia waves at him when he points to Isaac, asleep across her lap. Stiles sets his book down on the carpet and places a finger over his lips. He whispers something about Allison and the Sheriff nods, patting Stiles on the shoulder. He plucks the blanket draped over the back of his recliner, the one Lydia used the other week when she and Stiles were marathoning _Planet Earth_ , and lays it over Isaac. The beta unconsciously pulls it to his face.

The Sheriff - _you can call me John, Lydia_ \- moves to the side of the couch, staring down at Lydia and Isaac with a soft smile on his face. ‘ _You would have made a wonderful daughter-in-law,_ ’ he tells her, bending down to place a timid kiss on top of her head. Lydia halts her fingers from where they're tangled in Isaac’s hair and looks at Stiles. He’s fucking _beaming_ and says his father has earned a pizza for his good deeds. John shakes his head and demands a meat lover’s. His son says he’s getting something with white sauce instead.

Stiles pulls his phone from his pocket, flicking through the screens to call the local pizza place. Lydia doesn’t realize she is crying until he shoves the box of Kleenex that sits on the coffee table onto the arm rest, holding his phone to his ear. ‘ _Not a word, Stilinski,_ ’ she says and Stiles grins so wide she thinks it must hurt.

The doorbell jostles Isaac awake and he’s disoriented when he sits up. He rubs his eyes and yawns, blinking blearily at her. ‘ _Are you alright?_ ’ he asks and she is sure he has noticed the tear streaks on her face. Instead of answering she says they ordered pizza. As if on cue, Stiles yells for them from the kitchen, saying to come get some and they’ll watch _The Prestige_. Isaac stands and Lydia asks him to grab her a slice.

He gets her two, along with four napkins. Somewhere during the pack’s bonding phase, he picked up on her habit of blotting her pizza. She says thank you and he smiles at her when he settles back on the cushion next to her.

\- - -

[4]

Seven months after the Darach’s reign of terror ends, Scott finally gives in to accepting Peter’s help because the Hales are still missing. For months, Scott thought Derek would eventually come back in hopes the former alpha would advise him in how to lead the pack. But three months ago, a moving company cleared the loft of its furniture and placed everything in a storage locker downtown. Scott stopped hoping and Peter offered his assistance.

Isaac’s had a growing suspicion for two months now that Stiles knows _exactly_ where Derek is. He became increasingly protective of his phone around his birthday, only to become careless with it a week after. Around the same time, Isaac noticed one of the drawers in his desk started to smell familiar. Time has taken its toll on his ability to recognize Derek’s scent, but very few people smell like pine and atmosphere and sandalwood all the time.

He tries snooping one day when Stiles and Scott are face down on the floor, complaining about how much of a dick their honors physics teacher is. The moment he touches the drawer, his hand is shoved back. Stiles looks up from the floor and tells him nosy little betas should recognize mountain ash before they invade other people’s spaces. Scott rolls onto his back and asks why the drawer is guarded with mountain ash to begin with. Stiles smirks.

Two weeks later Isaac _swears_ the drawer vibrates. A week after that the scent is back, stronger than before. Isaac wants to ask, because even if Derek pushed him away in the _worst possible way_ , he is still the one who saved him from his father. He doesn’t, however, and Stiles seems grateful for that.

Derek’s absence leaves them with little other options, though. Deaton’s busy with training Stiles to be Scott’s emissary and between the clinic and tutoring the Sheriff’s son, he has little time to guide Scott. He’s also partially against advising the new alpha because Stiles is supposed to learning.

So Peter it is. He gives Scott guidance when he feels like it, always with a side of sarcasm, and preaches folklore like he’s the one who wrote it. Isaac snaps at him more than once and each time Peter flashes blue irises at him before calling him _pup_.

Today's lesson involves drawing and implanting memories, something Isaac is all too familiar with. They’re in the woods, he and Scott and Peter, because it’s the only place where there is no chance of someone catching one of them wolfed out. Isaac is sitting on the edge of the Nemeton, Scott behind him, Peter standing off to the side. He talks Scott through the precise placement of his claws and how deep to press them into the back of Isaac’s neck.

The goal is for Scott to draw a memory, one they have agreed on sharing, from Isaac. It’s a helpful trick to have should something happen to one of them the way it did a month ago when an angry coven of witches gave Allison temporary amnesia. As a pack, they agreed on it. Isaac volunteered when Stiles and Allison withdrew their offer after Scott said Peter would be teaching him. Lydia never offered, instead glaring at Scott for merely mentioning Peter’s name.

Isaac feels Scott’s nails scrape against his hairline before they sink in. He jerks and Scott wraps an arm around his chest. There’s no tug like there was the last time, when Peter was drawing forth memories Isaac didn’t want to remember. Instead, he’s shoved into Scott’s mind.

Isaac sees things from the alpha’s perspective and it takes him a few moments to realize he’s in the hospital and Stiles is flailing on the ground, closing a creaking door with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. When it’s finally closed, he - _Scott_ \- stands and approaches the bed. Pale and motionless lays Lydia, arms covered in bruises.

He watches Scott’s hands pull back the bandage on her abdomen, gauze coming away from the wound only when he applies more pressure. To his side, Stiles asks if it’s completely healed. Isaac can hear the surprise in Scott’s voice. ‘ _No, not at all._ ’ Stiles leans in to look at the wound, stitched closed. ‘ _The bite’s not healing like it did with me, which means,_ ’ Scott pauses, looking at Lydia’s face. ‘ _She’s not a werewolf._ ’

Something shoves him back to reality and Isaac falls forward off the Nemeton into the dirt. Behind him Scott is growling at Peter. Isaac can feel the wounds already closing as he scrambles to his feet and towards the nearest tree. Peter’s chuckling as Scott yells, voice gritty and raw. Isaac vomits and when he closes his eyes to fight back the tears, all he can see is Peter’s _bite_ on Lydia’s skin.

He stumbles off, back toward Scott’s dirtbike and road, calling Stiles on the way. He answers after a couple of rings and agrees to pick Isaac up. The Jeep comes rattling down the road ten minutes later and when Isaac climbs in, Stiles asks if he wants a ride home. Isaac shakes his head and asks him to drive to Lydia’s. He doesn’t comment on the bags beneath Stiles’ eyes or how hallow his cheeks look.

He hugs Stiles across the front seat of the Jeep, tightening his grip when the teen pats his back and asks if he’s okay. ‘ _No,_ ’ he replies before thanking him for the ride. Stiles holds a hand out and opens his mouth but Isaac waves him away, saying he’ll walk home.

Lydia’s mother is the one who answers the door, a puzzled look on her face when she disappears from the foyer to call Lydia down from her room. The strawberry blonde makes it halfway down the stairs, braiding her hair into a side pony, before she looks up. She curls a finger at him to follow, hair tie between her lips. Isaac nods and thanks Lydia’s mother for letting him in.

Isaac shuts the door behind him when they get to her room, immediately stepping forward to wrap her in a hug. She leans into him, lifting herself onto the balls of her feet, and asks what’s wrong when Isaac makes a choking noise against her shoulder. She repeats his name five times before the words come tumbling out, jumbled and frantic.

He finally calms down enough to tell her what happened, what Peter was supposed to teach Scott and what really happened. He’s already apologizing before he tells her what he saw through Scott’s memories, apologizing because she _didn’t_ deserve it, apologizing because he saw her wound without her _consent_.

Somewhere in the chaos of it all, Lydia sits down on the edge of her bed and Isaac kneels before her, his face pressed against her shoulder and arms still locked around her waist. It's then that he realizes Lydia hasn’t said a word. She runs her fingers through his hair as she tells him it’s alright, it wasn’t _his_ fault. Isaac pulls away far enough to look her in the eyes.

‘ _I’m going to kill him one day, Isaac. Stiles knows, so does Scott. They_ know _what he did to me. Now that you know too, you have to promise not to stop me._ ’ Lydia places a hand on either of his cheeks, wiping away the wet patches beneath his eyes. ‘ _Can you keep that promise for me?_ ’

Isaac nods. She kisses his forehead and says they are going to the McCall’s because Scott is probably having an anxiety attack over his pack falling apart. She stands, slipping a cardigan on over her blouse, and offers Isaac one of her hands.

Peter disappears after that. Three weeks pass until one day the Sheriff texts Stiles while he’s in class to tell him Peter Hale’s body was found eviscerated on a beach north of San Francisco. Isaac’s eyes find Lydia’s from across the lunch table when Stiles reads the police report aloud from his iPad. She breaks their stare and asks Scott if he has his bio notes.

‘ _It wasn’t me, Isaac,_ ’ she tells him a week later. They’re sitting in the Beacon Hills County library, notebooks and coffee cups on the table. Her laptop is sitting off to the side, color copies of the Argent's bestiary scattered in front of her. Isaac sets his pen down and runs a hand through his hair. ‘ _I didn’t kill him._ ’

Isaac doesn’t listen to her heartbeat because he knows she’s telling the truth. Instead he nods and tells her they aren’t supposed to talk. She grins and kicks him in the shin beneath the table.

\- - -

[5]

Derek comes back to Beacon Hills approximately eleven months, three weeks, and six days after he leaves without saying goodbye. Stiles _swears_ he wasn’t counting the days and Scott rolls his eyes so hard Allison jokes that he might detach his retinas. Isaac laughs and Scott tells him to be quiet. Lydia just grins behind her hands, both covered by the sleeves of her sweater. Well, technically Isaac’s sweater. He all but forced her into it twenty minutes ago when she shivered as the pack took their places on the steps of the old Hale house.

Scott’s whining about having to take off work to be here, arm around Allison’s waist. The archer pokes him in the ribs, admitting to everyone that Scott almost peed himself when he got the text message from Derek saying he was coming _home_. From the step below, Lydia tilts her head back against Scott’s knees, chiding him for lying to her. To her left, Isaac smirks.

Stiles, seated on the bottom step, is all nerves. Lydia knows he hasn’t told a single person other than her that he’s been in contact with Derek for five months. At first it was a cry for help because the darkness around his heart was making him lose his mind and Deaton wouldn’t answer his questions. Stiles broke down and started texting Derek once a day until he finally answered that he couldn’t help.

Lydia noticed the change in his behavior before Stiles probably realized it himself. He'd have a dopey look on his face sometimes after thumbing through the mail and it was only a matter of time before he told her Derek was sending him postcards and they were communicating through burn phones. She was the one who told him to place the mountain ash barrier around his desk drawer because she knows how nosy Scott and Isaac can be.

When the Camaro comes wheeling into front yard, the conservation all but stops. Lydia notices Isaac straightening, eyebrows furrowed as though the sports car is an illusion. When Derek steps out, he looks younger than she remembered. He is still wearing a leather jacket, a dark shirt and tight jeans, but his face looks softer despite the beard. He closes the door before taking a step forward, smiling.

Stiles springs up from the steps and rushes across the yard, jumping at him. Derek catches him with ease, squeezing him tightly. Lydia smiles before turning around. Scott’s mouth is wide open, as are Allison’s and Isaac’s. Scott makes a choking noise and his jaw drops further. Lydia follows his gaze to the idiots standing twenty feet away from her. Derek pulls away from a kiss she doesn’t know who initiated and presses his forehead to Stiles’.

The rest of the pack stands when she does, although she’s sure Scott is still flabbergasted at what just happened. Stiles pulls Derek across the yard by the sleeve of his jacket, cheeks flushed red. He looks happier than she’s seen him in months, since the night the Sheriff announced he and Melissa were _dating_. Derek greets them all hesitantly before apologizing for his absence. Stiles twines their fingers together and bumps their hips.

It takes another minute before Scott steps down from the porch, eyes probably flicking back and forth between his friend and the man who wanted _so badly_ for him just to be pack. Derek offers a hand and Scott chuckles, pulling the former alpha into a hug. Lydia watches several emotions wash over Derek’s face before he returns the embrace. ‘ _Brothers, right?_ ’ Scott chimes, stepping back and turning around to wave his pack forward.

Isaac is the next to greet Derek. He looks lost, confused and hurt and desperate. Derek tells him he’s sorry, that if he could do everything over again he would, that Erica and Boyd were _his_ fault. Isaac nods before embracing his former alpha. He’s shaking.

Allison squeezes Lydia’s hand before she approaches Derek next. ‘ _One day, you and I are going to sit down and talk about the bad blood between our families. Alright?_ ’ Allison cocks her head to one side, looking every bit the fierce warrior she’s transformed into since moving to Beacon Hills. Derek nods and Allison says ‘ _cool_ ’ before extending her arm to shake Derek's hand. Scott’s mouth is open again.

Derek is the one who greets Lydia. She tightens Isaac’s sweater around her frame, sure the he has already picked up on that, and stares at him critically. ‘ _You break his heart and I will kill you. The Sheriff wouldn’t even arrest me, Hale, he likes me that much. You make him cry and I have a pack that will make your death seem like an accident. You disappear again and leave him behind, and you will regret it. Do we have an understanding?_ ’ Derek nods. ‘ _Good._ ’

She doesn’t hug him like the boys have, nor does she shake his hand like Allison, choosing to just pat him on the chest. ‘ _Thank you,_ ’ he says and Lydia’s eyes flick to Stiles. He’s biting his lip, as though her approval of Derek is the final thing he needs to be okay. There are a hundred conversations she wants to have with him but those can wait; Derek is _home_ and Stiles is _happy_. Lydia returns her focus to the man in front of her, crossing her arms before suggesting they get dinner somewhere.

Derek integrates back into their lives seamlessly. He has hour long conversations with each member of the pack, makes amends with the Sheriff and Melissa, tells the Reyes and the Boyds what happened to their children. He sells the loft and moves into an apartment in a nicer part of downtown, pulls his furniture from storage and furnishes the extra bedroom. Isaac tells Lydia that Derek offers it to him, in case the McCall’s house stops feeling like home.

On New Year’s Eve, the group makes their way to the cemetery the Lahey’s once managed. Lydia takes one of Isaac’s hands in her own, following after Derek and Stiles. Allison and Scott are a few steps behind them, all headed in the same direction.

Erica and Boyd’s headstones are sleek black granite, shiny amongst seven headstones reading _Hale_. Derek sits on the ground between their graves, the rest of the pack seated around him. They remain quiet as the former alpha breaks down, allows himself to be vulnerable when a year and a half ago he wouldn’t have dreamed of it. He apologizes over and over, telling them, telling _his betas_ he will never be sorry enough for not being able to protect them. Isaac’s grip on Lydia's hand tightens and she leans against his shoulder.

They break apart in pairs afterwards, each disappearing to different corners of the graveyard. Stiles says he wants to introduce Derek to his mother and Lydia inherently knows how intimate a gesture that must be for him. Allison mumbles something about wanting to visit her mother’s grave, not mentioning Kate’s and Gerard’s are both cattycorner to it. Isaac asks Lydia if she will come with him to visit his family. Lydia shakes her head yes and Isaac smiles softly.

The next afternoon finds the pack in the middle of the Preserve. Derek has since bought his home back from the county with the promise to renovate the property instead of letting it continue to deteriorate into nothing. Their cars are all in a row, engines warm despite the cool weather. Somewhere in the forest Stiles yells.

When they met half an hour ago, someone made a comment about letting loose and Stiles suggested they play tag. Scott had laughed before Allison pushed him off the porch, saying that he was _it_. Lydia got a ten second start on Scott, dashing around the house, thankful she wore boots she could run in.

The air is crisp as she breathes in, tasting faintly like snow. She has her head turned behind her, watching for anyone chasing her when she runs into someone. It, _Isaac_ , falls back on the ground with a thud. Lydia pops up from where she lands, laughing. Isaac is still lying on his back, grinning as she looks down at him.

‘ _Watch where you’re going, Lahey._ ’ She prods him in the stomach, nail pressing into the fabric covering his stomach. He just chuckles, squirming as she tickles him. It lasts until Isaac stiffens beneath her touch. She says his name cautiously before pinching the hem of his shirt beneath her fingers. He doesn’t tell her to stop as she raises the fabric to his navel. Discolored and pitted is _another_ scar. Isaac smooths his shirt back over his skin and sits up, muttering something about his father and a staircase. Lydia apologizes, drawing her hand away from his stomach.

Isaac reaches a hand up to pull a leaf from her hair, sweeping it across her nose to break her from her thoughts. She rolls her eyes, grinning. He leans forward then, eyes flitting between her lips and eyes, and whispers ‘ _can I?_ ’ For something so simple, it’s taken them months.

Lydia replies yes almost breathlessly and Isaac kisses her. It’s chaste, warm and quick, and makes her skin tingle; it’s over too soon. Isaac jerks away and Lydia doesn’t know why until Stiles runs past them, a large black wolf at his heels, shouting at them to stop making out in the middle of the woods because Allison is _it_ and not above throwing her gloves at them. The wolf, Derek, chuffs and corrals Stiles through a dense patch of trees.

Lydia sits back on her heels and stands, brushing leaves from her tights before offering Isaac a hand. He takes it, grinning, and motions towards the large field at the edge of the tree line. She hears Scott yelling off in the distance and follows when Isaac pulls her away from the sound. Their fingers intertwine and they disappear into the tall, dead grass.

\- - -

[+1]

It’s three am on a Saturday morning in April and Lydia has never felt more nervous. She’s sitting on top of her bed, fully clothed, knees pulled to her chest. Across the mattress, Isaac is cross legged, leaning his weight back on his palms. Between them sits two movie stubs, their phones, and a condom.

Lydia’s mother is absent, off somewhere on the east coast for business and her father thinks she’s at Allison’s. If there is one benefit to her parents hating each other it’s that they never communicate unless absolutely necessary.

The ticket stubs are from spending the night out with the pack at the dollar movie theater to see _Silver Linings Playbook_. Isaac had his arm around her the entire outing and Lydia never complained. He’s entitled to that once in a while, seeing as they’ve been dating for four months now. It’s weird to think that they started high school as something less than acquaintances and they are about to graduate close to being in love.

Isaac isn’t like the other boys she’s dated. He’s not like Jackson who took her for granted on more than one occasion only to have her back in his arms later that day. He’s not like the flings she had after Jackson up and left. He’s not like Aiden who was handsy and eager to get down to business when they fooled around in empty classrooms. Isaac is sweet and nervous and _good_ for her in every way none of the others were. It’s why she’s so nervous despite the fact this won’t exactly be their first time.

A week ago she kissed Isaac hard to stall him from driving her home. He pressed her against the wall of his room at the McCalls, lifting her by her thighs as she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. Sometimes the height difference between them makes affection hard; in this case it gave Isaac reason to show off a little. Between licking his way into her mouth and her gasping as she ground her hips into his, he somehow got out ‘ _are you sure?_ ’ before she furiously nodded and pulled him into another kiss.

She’d be embarrassed for coming as quickly as she did if it hadn’t been so _good_. Isaac brought her off with just his fingers and a well-placed kiss on her neck. She’d clung to him as the orgasm racked through her body, mind fuzzy when he set her back down on her feet, and offered to return the favor before kissing him languidly once more. Isaac just shook his head and said he needed to get her home before curfew.

So she shouldn’t be as nervous as she is. Isaac is watching her, grinning at nothing. She inhales and exhales deeply once before leaning forward, closing the space between them to kiss him. It takes just a bit of maneuvering to get Isaac on his back, head against the pillows on the side of the bed she doesn’t use. Lydia straddles his hips, dress riding high on her thighs as she settles her weight.

‘ _May I?_ ’ she asks cautiously, fingers at the hem of his shirt. Isaac nods and she pushes the fabric up. He helps her pull the long sleeved shirt off and for the first time, Lydia sees the reasons he’s keen to always keep his shirt on. It’s something they agreed upon at the very beginning, that neither was to force the other into anything before they were ready.

Their scars are what make their touches so precise and the eagerness to jump into bed not a priority. Isaac’s chest is covered in several mars, some smooth and pale, others discolored and sunken. Lydia traces her fingers over each, asking for permission every time. Isaac complies and tells her short snippets of how he earned them: a broken staircase over forgetting to take out the trash, a lacrosse stick to the ribs when he didn’t make first line, a table corner when Camden was nervous about being shipped out. Lydia maps them in her mind and tells Isaac he is beautiful.

She starts laughing when he rolls her over, settling between her legs to kiss his way down her throat. He doesn’t leave a bruise, never has because the last time someone marked her skin was the night Jennifer coiled a garrote around her neck. She knows it must kill Isaac sometimes, to know he can’t mark her like his wolf probably wants to. Stiles has long since admitted Derek has a biting and marking kink and Allison informs him he’s not the only one. Lydia leaves lovebites on Isaac’s neck every now and then but they always fade within minutes.

He asks her for permission before he unzips the side of her dress, pressing lazy kisses to her collarbone. It falls on the ground in a ruffled pile on top of his shirt and Isaac’s eyes find the Peter’s scar with ease. Lydia covers it with her hand, still self-conscious over something that happened two years ago. Isaac kisses her slowly and asks if he can see it. She nods and guides his hand with her eyes closed.

The scar itself is smooth, smoother than the skin that surrounds it. Lydia squirms, bottom lip between her teeth as Isaac’s nails scrape lightly against the edges. The scar has become overly sensitive with time, most likely because she makes it a habit to not touch unless absolutely necessary. When Isaac presses his lips to the edge, Lydia jolts beneath his touch.

He reduces her to a writhing mess in only two minutes, having kissed the outline, dragged his tongue across the scar tissue, placed his teeth in the space between the crescents and applied a slight amount of pressure. It’s nothing like the night of her Sophomore winter formal when Peter bit her without consent or any care as to whether the bite would turn or kill her. Peter didn’t care when he plagued her mind in the months after. Peter didn’t care when he asked her what his scar looked like at a pack meeting Scott ran late to in June of last year.

Lydia shoves the condom packet into his palm and tells him she's ready. Isaac steps off the bed to pull his pants down, pausing before asking if she wants him to turn off the light. Lydia shakes her head no and lifts her hips to fling her underwear at their pile of clothes. Isaac smirks, slips out of his own, and sits back between her legs.

She watches him roll the condom across his cock, breaths shallow as he looks down at her. Lydia gets her hands in his hair, pulling him down on top of her as she kisses him. Isaac groans against her lips and Lydia whines as she feels him sink into her body.

It’s four in the morning as they lay panting on top of her comforter, Lydia still in her bra and Isaac’s face plastered against her neck. She debates falling asleep like that, seeing how her legs feel like jelly. Isaac eventually stands up, saying they should shower. Lydia pulls him back down for another kiss, giggling when he scoops her up and carries her toward the bathroom.

When they’ve showered and changed into clean clothes, Lydia turns the light off next to her bed. She snuggles herself against Isaac’s back, draping an arm around his waist, and presses her lips to the back of his neck. ‘ _Lydia?_ ’ he asks, kissing the knuckles of her left hand. She makes a noise against his skin and he starts to say ‘ _I lov-_ ‘ before she interrupts him by placing her teeth against his shoulder. ‘ _Not tonight, Isaac. Go to sleep._ ’

Lydia slides her ankle between his calves as her heart pounds in her chest.

\- - -

[bonus]

At twenty four, Isaac never imagined living on the East Coast, waking up every morning with the same person in a bed they bought together. He’s been here in Massachusetts for two years now, teaching kindergarten at an elementary school a few miles away from the MIT campus where Lydia spends most of her time. She’s in the third year of her Ph.D program, having graduated with her bachelors a year early before taking the mathematics department by storm.

This morning she wakes him with a nudge to his stomach. He doesn’t open his eyes as she leans against him, bending down to kiss a trail across his forehead and nose. He grins when her eyelashes brush against his cheek, followed by a fleeting kiss to the corner of his mouth. When he finally does open his eyes, he’s reminded why four years apart was worth it.

Lydia’s perched on the edge of the mattress, hair pulled into a messy bun atop her head, a pair of reading glasses across her nose. She has one hand wrapped around a mug of steaming coffee as the other skirts lightly over his ribs. Isaac grins when he recognizes what she’s wearing: his grey striped sweater, underwear, and nothing else.

The sweater has become a running joke between them over time, one that never ceases to call forth memories of their first day of high school and the day Isaac, Scott, and Allison bested the twins. Every break they could come home during undergrad, Lydia from MIT and Isaac from USC, Lydia would exchange out whatever sweater or shirts of Isaac’s she wanted. When she found the grey one buried in one of his suitcases, she told him she was commandeering it until further notice. Now it sits barely at the top of her thighs.

Lydia pokes him in the shoulder before suggesting he shower, lest he be late for work. Isaac squeezes her knee and Lydia just grins, telling him to get his lazy butt up. He can’t help but watch her walk out of the room, his sweater slumped across her shoulders and just barely hiding her panties from view. Isaac remains in bed for another minute, focusing his hearing on the noises she is making from the kitchen.

He’s standing in their closet, pants loose and shirt unbuttoned when he reaches for a box at the back of the shelf above his half of the walk-in. Lydia calls for him from the other side of the apartment and Isaac plucks something from the box before setting is back in place.

Lydia is twenty three when Isaac gets down on one knee in the middle of their kitchen and asks her to marry him. She feigns a yawn, asking what’s in it for her. Isaac picks her up effortlessly, sets her down on the kitchen table, and says ‘ _a lifetime of that._ ’ Lydia laughs through her tears and looks down at where her hands are overlaid with Isaac’s. ‘ _You sure know how to persuade a girl, Isaac,_ ’ she replies, stretching her fingers out. Isaac is beaming at her when she prompts him to place the ring on her finger before sliding off the table to make sure her steel coat oats don’t burn.

Isaac comes home that night with takeout from their favorite Vietnamese restaurant and they eat it sprawled across the couch. Lydia muses that she’s lucky she’s learned about wedding planning from Allison, legs draped across Isaac’s lap while Isaac wonders if Scott will agree to be his best man. She asks if he would be alright with John Stilinski giving her away and Isaac tells her of course. She hasn’t been in much contact with either of her parents since leaving Beacon Hills; during breaks she always stayed with either the Stilinskis or the Argents.

They agree to give it a couple of days before they tell the pack, setting the leftovers in the fridge. Lydia is hovering over the sink when Isaac lifts her by her waist. She giggles the entire way to their bedroom, snickering with laughter as he drops her on the bed only to peel her out of her clothes. The buildup is better than normal because Isaac takes his time to press kisses to every inch of her skin.

‘ _I love you,_ ’ he tells her, tongue gliding over the scar Peter left on her almost eight years ago. She gasps when Isaac sucks a bruise into the skin between the crescent mars, nosing at it directly after. ‘ _I love you,_ ’ he repeats and Lydia keens.

**Author's Note:**

> I will never tire of watching _Abomination_ but the one thing that irks me about that episode is the fact Lydia cuts her _left_ hand open punching the mirror, hides the injury at school by wearing gloves, but when Stiles asks her what's wrong as she sits in her car, the wound is healed. Either she magically gained super healing just for that day or the people that put the episode together weren't paying attention because she keeps her _right_ glove on the entire time.
> 
> I'm picky, huh.
> 
> I always have and always will think sharing stories about where you've acquired scars is one of the most intimate things you can do with another person. And for someone like Isaac, who I'm convinced pre-bite was covered in dozens of permanent reminders as to how much his father thought he was worth, concealing those scars must be second nature. It's why I see him sharing his past with Lydia, why letting her see his scars, takes time. But he knows she will understand because she's not without her own demons. Peter's bite mark, whether it's easy to ignore or not, is something she'll live with the rest of her life, a reminder that he tormented her for _months_ , and despite overcoming that, it will always be _his_ mark on _her_ skin.
> 
> OOPS. I forgot to mention the title comes from the song _Universe_ by Kids of 88.
> 
> Ah, feels. So many feels. Come wallow in feels with me on [tumblah](http://stayingputwouldbeablunder.tumblr.com) if you wish.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Scars and Souvenirs](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1546031) by [ZuluOscarEcho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZuluOscarEcho/pseuds/ZuluOscarEcho)




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